Triplets for the Texan (Texas Cattleman's Club: Blackmail 5)

“And for that sound medical judgment you went to med school...”

Her snarkiness amused him. “Things are going well,” he said gently.

Simone bit her bottom lip. “Dr. Fetter wants me to come in for the ultrasound tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“What if...”

He put his hand over her mouth and kissed her nose. “The ultrasound will make you feel better.”

“Or maybe not,” she mumbled against his fingers.

“Are we having the glass half-empty, half-full conversation?”

Her blue eyes glistened with tears. Like bluebonnets in the rain. He knew he was in trouble when he realized he was waxing poetic, even in his head.

Simone wriggled until he released her. She wrapped her arms around her waist. “You don’t understand. As long as I’m standing here with you in this kitchen, those three babies are alive and developing normally. I don’t want to go to the hospital and find out differently.”

He wondered if any of the other people in her life knew that beneath Simone’s facade of bravado and confidence lurked a sensitive, vulnerable woman. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “It will be fine. And if it’s not, you can lean on me.”

“I have to do this alone,” she insisted, her chin set in stubborn mode.

“No, you don’t. That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m serious, Hutch. It’s one thing for you to stay here and make sure I eat. It’s a whole other ball game for you to parade up to that hospital with me when everybody in the building knows who you are. I can’t deal with that, too. You can drive me there if you insist, but I want you to drop me off at the door and leave.”

His temper started to boil. “You’re being absurd.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. The tears spilled over now. “Leave me alone,” she cried. “I’m going to my room.”

He told himself pregnant women were at the mercy of roller-coaster hormones. Simone needed her space.

It made sense. The artificial situation in which they found themselves was beginning to fray at the seams. After the first night of his stay, he hadn’t made love to her at all. He’d wanted to, God knew, but he had felt the need to back up and reassess. He’d been sleeping in the guest room ever since. Alone.

If Simone really cared about him as more than a doctor and a friend, she would make the first move. But she hadn’t.

A crack of thunder right over the house made him jump. He was horny and frustrated and angry at himself for getting involved with a woman who had far too many issues at play.

The fact that she didn’t want him in the room when she had the ultrasound done was a red flag. He wanted to protect her and keep her from any kind of pain, physical or mental.

What Simone wanted was a mystery.

Her sandwich and soup sat uneaten on the counter. He zapped the plate in the microwave and carried it down the hall as a peace offering.

He found the bedroom door ajar. Simone sat in the middle of the carpet with a strange look on her face. He set the tray on the dresser and squatted beside her. “Is this some new yoga pose I don’t know about?” he asked lightly.

She raised the hem of her shirt, took his hand and placed it flat on her belly. “I have a baby bump, Hutch. I really do!”

Eleven

She actually did. Only someone who had studied her body as much as he had would have been able to tell, but it was legit. He stroked her stomach. “You do, indeed. A real baby bump. Congratulations.”

Simone rested her head against his knee. “I know it sounds stupid, but I was afraid nothing was there.”

“And you were deathly ill because...” He raised an eyebrow.

“I said it didn’t make sense.”